


Prickly Pear

by Kantayra



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-19
Updated: 2009-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When Fuji turned six (one and a half), his aunt got him a prickly pear cactus for his birthday.</i> It follows him through his life as he learns about brotherhood, friendship, love, and tennis...but mostly tennis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prickly Pear

When Fuji turned six (one and a half), his aunt got him a prickly pear cactus for his birthday.

Up until then, Fuji had been indifferent to the whole affair. After all, there wasn’t a February 29th that year, so it wasn’t _really_ his birthday. His mom always threw him a party anyway, though, despite Fuji’s insistence that they needed to wait until he was _really_ two. Fuji had stopped pointing this out the previous year, once he realized how much Yuta liked sneaking into the kitchen and licking the icing off Fuji’s cake. If it made Yuta happy, Fuji wouldn’t complain.

But he’d never really thought much of his non-birthdays until that cactus.

“The note says you have to be careful opening this one,” his mother had informed him with a wink and passed along a bright green bag with red and yellow ribbons holding the top closed.

Fuji had methodically untied the ribbons, one by one, making sure not to tear one even the slightest until Yuta finally couldn’t stand it anymore and yelled at Fuji to hurry up.

When Fuji finally saw the prickly pear, he gaped in awe for the first time that any of his family could remember. After all, everyone knew that aunts always gave the worst presents, like socks and sweaters. That his aunt – not even by blood, but his dad’s brother’s wife – had somehow found out about his peculiar fascination with cacti and had given him such a spectacular one, was almost beyond comprehension.

“What are you going to say to Auntie Aiko next time you see her?” his mom had pressed.

“Thank you, Auntie Aiko!” Fuji parroted the expected reply, cradling the seemingly-fragile pot in tiny hands.

***

Fuji’s obsession with cacti had begun, at age three (three-quarters), when his dad had gotten him a book on one of his business trips. It was a big picture book, with bright, sunny pictures of arid deserts and then, in the middle of those wastelands, were big, bright green, _bizarre_ plants. It was called ‘The Cactus Book,’ and it had all the cacti in the world in it (or so Fuji had thought at the time).

“What’re you doin’?” Yuta would peer over at him.

Fuji had paper and crayons and ‘The Cactus Book,’ and he was meticulously taking notes. “Makin’ a list,” Fuji smiled.

“Why?”

“Because some day I’m gonna see every cactus in here,” Fuji explained.

“Why?”

“Because I just am.” Even though he was Fuji, he was still just three (three-quarters), after all.

“Why?” Yuta repeated.

That evening, Fuji took all of Yuta’s toy soldiers and dressed them up in Yumiko’s dolls’ clothes.

“I hate you, you big meanie!” Yuta pouted.

Fuji had just grinned at him.

***

While it had been Fuji’s life-long (or, at least, three years’ worth) dream to see a real cactus, he’d never thought that he would actually _own_ one. That night while the world was cruelly skipping right over his birthday for the second year straight, Fuji cleaned all his toys off the shelf by the window. He knew from his picture book that cacti needed lots of sunlight.

The prickly pear made a strange silhouette against the streetlights outside, like some kind of deformed bunny rabbit. Fuji smiled at the sight.

“It’s scary!” Yuta insisted.

“No, it’s not!” Fuji retorted.

“Is so!”

“Is not!”

“If you two don’t be quiet, I’m going to shave your heads bald next time I babysit you,” Yumiko shouted at them through the wall.

That shut them both up. Yumiko had explained to them the first time she’d babysat that, once you were shaved bald, you were bald _for life_. That was why some people were bald: because they wouldn’t stop screaming so their parents had shaved their heads. Fuji and Yuta both knew Yumiko was _scary_ , so she’d actually do it, too. Especially when she was smiling sweetly like that.

So Fuji had gone to bed without properly defending his prickly pear. That was all right, though. Everyone knew cacti were cool, even if they seemed sort of strange and dangerous at first. Fuji had full confidence that Yuta would turn around on this issue.

Little did he know that his mom, in the master bedroom, had called his Aunt Aiko on the phone. “He’s only one and a half!” she exclaimed before sighing wearily. “God, now he’s got me doing it, too… I mean, he’s _six_!” she corrected. “What were you thinking?”

“He’s a big boy now,” Aunt Aiko insisted breezily in a way that only someone without her own children yet could. “Plus, he’s always been precocious. It’ll be fine.”

Fuji’s mom made a decision then: At the first sign of trouble, the cactus was gone.

***

Because Fuji was six (one and a half) and Yuta was five and they shared the same bedroom, it took approximately twelve hours for trouble to happen. It would have happened sooner, but they’d been asleep for the first ten of those hours.

Fuji had been recopying his list of cacti (in pen now, because crayons were for little kids) so that he could cross off prickly pear. At the same time, he was creating a _new_ list of cacti he actually owned. Prickly pear went right at the top of that one.

Meanwhile, Yuta was staring at the weird thing on their windowsill, unbeknownst to Fuji. It looked like it would hurt. But, with impeccable five-year-old logic, Yuta had to check to make _sure_ it would hurt. He reached out slowly, tapped the tip of his index finger against one of long spines, and flinched in anticipation.

Much to Yuta’s surprise, the spine didn’t go straight through his finger and he wasn’t bleeding everywhere. Yuta opened his eyes and considered the cactus. Maybe his brother had been telling the truth. Maybe this cactus was all bark and no bite.

With the beginnings of a smile, Yuta reached carefully between the long spines to pet the smooth flesh of the cactus. And that, of course, was when it happened.

The tiny, hair-like spines that were the prickly pear’s last line of defense dislodged into Yuta’s finger, and by the time he pulled back with a yelp, dozens of them had sunk into his skin, itching like crazy.

Yuta started crying and scratching, trying to get them out.

“Don’t scratch,” Fuji tried to warn him, catching his hands. “You’ll only make it worse.”

“Get them _out_!” Yuta screeched.

Yumiko, who was babysitting while their mom was at the store, rushed in. “What happened?” she asked in alarm.

“It _bit_ me!” Yuta pointed accusingly at the prickly pear.

“It’s the glochids,” Fuji chimed in helpfully.

Yumiko blinked at him, uncomprehending.

“They’re tiny needles that stick into anything they touch and won’t come out,” Fuji quoted ‘The Cactus Book’ from memory.

“Here, let me see,” Yumiko said wearily, taking Yuta’s hand. Of course, Yuta had been wailing like a banshee when Fuji held him, but Yumiko seemed to possess magical powers, so Yuta’s tears were immediately reduced to sniffles when Yumiko inspected him. “Hang on. Let me get a tweezers.”

She spent the next ten minutes tweezing each of the tiny, nearly invisible spines from Yuta’s finger. When she was all done, she put a drop of antiseptic on it and a brightly-colored Pokémon Band-Aid.

Yuta beamed at his finger.

“You know,” Yumiko commented wearily, “maybe a six-year-old and a cactus isn’t the best combination.”

Fuji’s face fell. “But it’s all Yuta’s fault!” he insisted. “I _tried_ to tell him all about prickly pears, but he wouldn’t listen!”

“That’s because cactuses are _boring_!” Yuta informed him, sticking out his tongue.

“It’s ‘cacti,’ and they’re not!” Fuji retorted.

Yumiko felt a headache coming on. “Did I ever tell you the story of ‘The Ogre That Eats Quarreling Brothers’?” she asked with a soft smile, her eyes squeezed shut.

Fuji and Yuta gulped.

“How about this?” Yumiko decided. “I’ll take the cactus back to my room.”

“What?” Fuji sniffled. “No!”

Yumiko tried not to melt at the sight. It just wasn’t fair that two such annoying little brothers were so _adorable_. Clearly, it was some sort of natural defense mechanism to keep their elders from murdering them. “It’ll still be your cactus,” Yumiko assured him. “It’ll just live on my windowsill for a while.”

“You can’t have Kaku!” Fuji hugged the pot.

“It has a name?” Yumiko knew what _that_ meant: the cactus wasn’t going anywhere without a crying jag.

“ _He_ has a name,” Fuji corrected.

Great, Fuji was just getting more and more irrational about his cactus. He’d probably start bringing it to the dinner table and sitting it in their dad’s empty chair if Yumiko didn’t do something. Fuji had done that for a few months, with various stuffed animals.

“But Shusuke,” she pointed out, an idea popping into her mind, “my window gets more sunlight. You want Kaku to get lots to eat, right?”

Fuji was flummoxed by this point.

“He’ll get big and strong,” Yumiko promised with a smile. “Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Well, yes…” Fuji said slowly, looking very suspicious at her intentions.

“You can come over and visit him and help take care of him whenever you want,” Yumiko promised.

Fuji wavered.

“And this way Yuta won’t get hurt again. Don’t you want to protect your little brother?”

Fuji looked over at Yuta, who was still admiring his Band-Aid, and nodded. After all, it was his job to make sure Yuta was safe.

“Great.” Yumiko breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been worried there for a minute. She had no doubt their mom was just waiting for an excuse to get rid of the cactus, and that would just _break_ Fuji. She still felt enough sibling solidarity that she didn’t want that to happen. “Here, help me take him back to my room.”

Fuji looked at her with big, blue eyes that weren’t fooled at all. Even though she was smiling and acting like she loved her brothers very much, Fuji knew the truth: she was _evil_. Little did he know that everything he was learning about being an older sibling came directly from her.

“Now,” Yumiko concluded when the cactus was finally safely ensconced on her windowsill, “let’s go back downstairs. Haruna and Maiko are coming over for lunch.”

“What?” Yuta’s eyes widened in horror, much as Fuji’s had when Yumiko had suggested taking the cactus. “No!”

Yumiko’s friends had declared Fuji and Yuta to be “oh my god, so _cute_!” and, at every available opportunity, tried to put bows in their hair and make them wear Yumiko’s childhood dresses.

“Yay!” Fuji clapped his hands happily.

Yuta glared at the traitor.

***

Over the next year, there were no more cactus-related incidents, and Fuji took the opportunity to try to turn Yuta around on the subject of cacti.

“Aren’t its flowers pretty?” Fuji had demanded that May when the cactus suddenly developed a giant yellow bloom overnight.

Privately, Yuta thought that was kind of awesome, because the flower had just come out of _nowhere_. Plus, who would ever have thought such a ridiculous-looking plant could flower in the first place? But Yuta was feeling contrary that day, so he just said, “Flowers are for _girls_.”

“Those green things aren’t the leaves,” Fuji had explained a month or so later when he and Yuta were hiding in Yumiko’s room from Yumiko’s friends. Yumiko’s friends had brought their make-up kits this time, so even Fuji conceded that a hasty retreat was advisable, if only because make-up _stank_. “That’s actually the stem. The leaves are the needles.”

“Can we play robots now?” Yuta demanded, bored.

“Only if I get to be the toaster again.”

Yuta blinked at him. “Shusuke? You’re really weird.”

It all culminated with their dad’s weekend back home. They’d gone over to Uncle Keiji and Aunt Aiko’s house and were playing in the park there.

“They’re called platyclades,” Fuji was following Yuta around, annoying him. “All Cactaceae have them.”

“Leave me alone!” Yuta complained.

“Hey, kids!” Uncle Keiji wisely decided to intervene before his nephews started fighting again. “Come over here. I’ll show you how to play.”

Fuji and Yuta dutifully ran over and were each handed an item that would change both of their lives.

“You hold the racket like this,” Uncle Keiji instructed them, “and then you swing and try to hit the ball back to me.”

Both boys tried swinging their tennis rackets just like Uncle Keiji had.

“Here, let’s try it…” Uncle Keiji gently lobbed the first ball Fuji’s way.

Over the next hour, one by one, each member of the Fuji family’s eyes widened. Given the general state of the Fuji family eyes, this was unheard of. Neither of the Fuji brothers had ever held a tennis racket before, but one of them was clearly a prodigy. The other…wasn’t.

Fuji and Yuta didn’t notice the difference, of course. They laughed and raced after the balls, completely oblivious to how their futures were being rewritten in that moment.

The rest was history.

***

Fuji won his first junior tennis tournament a year later. It was only a tournament for age eight and under, but the fact that a seven-year-old had taken it, caused the spectators to “ooh” and “aah.” Fuji had, of course, tried to explain to the referee that he was only one and three-quarters, but the referee hadn’t believed him, for some weird reason.

The boy Fuji had beaten in the quarter-finals was young, too, and after the tournament, he came up to Fuji and apparently decided to be his friend.

“I’m Saeki Kojiro,” the boy beamed at Fuji.

“Fuji Shusuke,” Fuji smiled back.

“You’re really good,” Saeki told him earnestly.

“Ah, really?” Fuji scratched his head sheepishly. “Thanks. You were really good, too.”

“Where do you take lessons?” Saeki wondered.

“Well, I don’t really,” Fuji admitted. “I mostly just go to the park and practice by myself.”

Saeki looked impressed at that. “You should come take lessons where I do,” he concluded. “I bet you could, like, win Wimbledon then.”

Fuji was about to shrug him off, but then Yuta stomped in. Yuta had been in a bad mood all tournament, and Fuji’s seven-year-old (one-and-three-quarters-year-old) mind couldn’t figure out why.

“ _I_ wanna take lessons!” he insisted.

Saeki blinked down at him.

“This is my younger brother, Yuta,” Fuji introduced them.

“Hi, Shusuke’s younger brother,” Saeki acknowledged.

Yuta seethed. “Don’t call me that!” he snapped what would soon become the constant refrain of his life.

“So?” Saeki asked Fuji hopefully.

“If Yuta wants to, I guess so,” Fuji agreed with a smile.

***

The first time Saeki saw Fuji’s prickly pear, he was very impressed, much more than Yuta had ever been.

“Will it hurt if I touch it?” Saeki asked, awestruck at the bizarre living thing in front of him.

“The long spines are okay,” Fuji informed him. “But don’t get too close, or the glochids will get stuck in your finger.”

“Glochids?” Saeki poked one of the long spines cautiously.

Fuji beamed and began to explain.

***

Right after Fuji finally turned two, Yumiko went away to university in Tokyo. Fuji and Yuta didn’t want her to go, of course, even if Fuji would be getting her old bedroom, so they would have their own rooms now. Yumiko had pacified them by promising that she’d send them presents.

Fuji, in the way that only children could, had completely forgotten about this promise until, a month and a half into the school year, a package had arrived in the mail. Yuta had gotten a water gun which, Yuta informed Fuji, looked just like a real cowboy gun. He proceeded to shoot up the backyard, while their mom sighed wearily.

Fuji’s present was smaller. He opened the paper bag to find candy inside. Fuji was puzzled at first; after all, he’d never been much of a fan of sweets. Then he saw the label, however, and he understood. It had said in ‘The Cactus Book’ that prickly pear fruits were edible, but Kaku was his pet, so Fuji had never even thought about eating him. His sister had gotten him a selection of cactus candies instead.

One of the bags said ‘Prickly pear pops,’ and Fuji smiled at the dark red lollipops. The other bag was ‘Fiery hot cactus gummies.’

Fuji’s mom looked even more tired at the prospect of Fuji high on sugar, although Fuji didn’t notice that, of course.

Fuji tried one of each right then. The prickly pear pops were sweet, but unusual in a way that Fuji couldn’t place. Cactus-flavored, he guessed. He decided he liked the flavor.

However, the red hot cactus gummies were _really_ good. There was the cactus-flavor, but they were hot on his tongue, too, like he imagined a desert would be. They tasted much more like cacti should, eight-year-old (two-year-old) Fuji decided.

When Yuta finally came back inside, Fuji let him try his candy, too. Yuta agreed that the prickly pear pops were good, but he had to run to kitchen for a glass of water when he tried the red hot cacti. Fuji was amused, and Yuta glared at him when he laughed.

That night, as the older brother, Fuji sat Yuta down so that they could write Yumiko back and thank her for the presents.

 _“Dear Yumiko,”_ Fuji wrote.

 _“Thank you for the cactus candies. Yuta ate the prickly pear pops. I ate the red hot cactus gummies. They were both yummy. Please send more. Some day I want to come visit you in Tokyo. Then I will buy more cactus candy._

 _“We miss you. I have been taking good care of your room. I like living with Kaku, but I miss living with Yuta. Please come home soon._

 _“Love, Shusuke”_

On the other side of the card, Yuta scrawled,

 _“Big sister,_

 _“Thank you for the water gun! It is awesome!_

 _“Love, Yuta”_

Their mom nodded approvingly the next day when she read it and mailed it right away.

***

It turned out that Saeki took tennis lessons from this old man named Oji, who made tennis rackets and coached the Rokkaku junior high tennis team. Fuji liked Oji immediately because he was always smiling; he reminded Fuji of family. And, even though Oji looked really old, he would still play against Fuji and show him cool, new moves and was really good.

Fuji had entered that first tennis tournament just for fun, because it was hard to find people to play with in the park who weren’t too big for him. Even though Oji had plenty of students Fuji’s age, though, he still encouraged Fuji to keep playing in lots of tournaments.

It was fun. Fuji got to play lots of different kids, and some of them weren’t even from Chiba, so he wouldn’t have been able to play them otherwise. He won lots more trophies, too, although Fuji never really cared too much about that.

Yuta was taking lessons, too, of course, and after a couple of years, he was entering tournaments, as well. When Fuji was nine (two and one-quarter) and Yuta was eight, Yuta even got fifth place in the tournament Fuji had won two years earlier.

Even though Yuta hadn’t gotten a trophy for fifth place, he still got a little ribbon. They’d gone out for sushi that night to celebrate anyway, and Yuta had been a lot less grumpy than he usually was.

That all ended two weeks later when Fuji won the eleven-and-under junior competition. It was the first time a nine-year-old (two-and-one-quarter-year-old) had ever won. The trophy for that competition was even bigger than the one for the eight-and-under competition. It had a big, gold cup at the top, and a little plaque at the bottom that said, “First place.”

Yuta had scowled the whole time at the sushi celebration party afterwards, and then he’d gotten really mad at Fuji when Fuji snuck wasabi into his sauce, even though Fuji did that _all_ the time. After all, wasabi was delicious, and Fuji didn’t want Yuta to miss out.

A few weeks later, Yumiko came home for break from university, and she brought them more presents. Yuta got a brand new tennis bag – “Just like a pro!” Yuta exclaimed excitedly – and Fuji got a barrel cactus.

Even though Fuji knew barrel cacti could get much bigger, this one was still only about an inch tall, so Fuji concluded that the perfect pot for it would be his new trophy.

“You’re such a jerk,” Yuta had snarled at Fuji when he saw what Fuji had done.

Saeki had thought it was hilarious, though, just like Fuji did. Fuji was beginning to worry that Yuta was growing up with no sense of humor. Maybe Fuji needed to tease Yuta more…

“So,” Saeki asked that day as the three of them played on the courts near Fuji’s house, “are you going to the Kanto Junior Tournament?”

Yuta, who was playing Fuji at the time, faulted on his serve.

“Coach Oji wanted me to, but I would miss my family too much,” Fuji answered with a shrug.

Yuta double-faulted.

“That’s too bad,” Saeki said sadly. “I’ll be sure to take plenty of pictures for you.”

“Thanks,” Fuji smiled.

***

When Fuji was eleven (two and three-quarters) and Yuta was ten, the Fuji family moved to Tokyo. Fuji and Yuta, neither of whom wanted to move, were informed of all the reasons. Their dad’s company’s main office was moving to Tokyo, so he wanted his family there so he could stay with them when he wasn’t abroad. Yumiko was just graduating from university, and she had an opening job lined up, but it would be easier for her if she could live at home and not pay exorbitant rent.

“All my friends are here!” Fuji insisted.

“What about _tennis_?” Yuta demanded.

“You’ll make new friends, and there are plenty of tennis teams in Tokyo,” their mom promised.

Fuji went over to Saeki’s house that night to explain to him. Saeki had been unusually silent and thoughtful, and they hadn’t said much of anything after that.

The actual move was an ordeal, too. Their mom and Yumiko were working nonstop packing, of course, but Fuji was most worried about his cacti. He had five by then and, even though Tokyo wasn’t physically that far away, with traffic it took longer.

“They like the heat, right?” Saeki asked. “So they should be all right in the car.”

“But I can’t hold all five,” Fuji worried. “What if one of the pots tips over?”

“Can’t you get your sister and brother to hold some of them for you?”

Fuji considered this.

“By the way,” Saeki said nervously, “I got you something.”

Fuji blinked at him in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Saeki blushed and pulled out the object from behind his back. “Here.”

It was a small digital camera.

“Thanks,” Fuji turned it over carefully in his hands.

“It’s so you can send me pictures of Tokyo, just like I always used to do for you,” Saeki explained. “That way, even though we won’t be living near each other anymore, we can still be best friends.”

Fuji smiled at him and hugged him.

On the drive to Tokyo, he filled up the entire memory card with pictures and video of Yuta scowling at him and telling him to knock it off.

***

By the time they’d moved into their new house and Fuji started going to junior high at Seigaku, he’d had Kaku for almost six years. Over that time, the prickly pear had grown from a small cactus with three flat, fleshy lobes into a dense, twisted mass of greenery. Kaku took up Fuji’s half windowsill now, and his other cacti had been relegated to the sidelines. That was why Fuji still liked Kaku the best, though. The cactus had become an infinite labyrinth of twists and turns, with some areas so well protected by spines that even Fuji didn’t know what lay inside.

At school, Fuji was sad about moving at first, but in the end it was a good thing because, if he’d stayed in Chiba, he would never have known about the Seigaku tennis club. Fuji hadn’t really thought much about Seigaku tennis before the first practice. He knew that Seigaku was a smaller club than Rokkaku and they didn’t go to Nationals as much. Mostly, though, Fuji was just sad that he wouldn’t be playing with Saeki anymore.

The first Seigaku practice was so much fun, though, that all Fuji’s worries were cast aside.

He ended up paired with a kind, earnest boy named Oishi, who seemed really excited to play doubles.

“Most teams are weak in doubles because it can take years for a doubles team to learn to work well together,” Oishi informed him as they picked up balls. “So I think I should start a doubles pair now, and then by the time we’re regulars, we’ll be really good.”

“That’s smart,” Fuji agreed with a smile.

“I just want to be useful to the team,” Oishi said fervently.

Oishi actually wasn’t very good yet, but there was another first-year on the team who was. Rumors about him spread during that first week of practice, and some people were even saying that he was going to be a regular. He was a serious boy with glasses named Tezuka, and Fuji wanted to play him very much, because the one disadvantage to the Seigaku tennis club was that the first-years mostly did drills and didn’t get to play much. Tennis was a lot more serious than it ever had been back with Oji.

The biggest difference, however, came after practice. Rokkaku had had a clubhouse, but Fuji had never gone in there much; that was for the junior high students. Now that Fuji _was_ in junior high, though, he had a locker in the Seigaku clubhouse and everything.

The first time Fuji changed in there he’d been very uncomfortable. There were older boys – big, tall, muscular boys – undressing all around him. There was bare, naked skin everywhere and, after showers, _wet_ skin, too.

Fuji knew that he wasn’t supposed to stare. That was rude. It was hard not to, though. All Fuji could think of when he saw those bodies was that he wanted to _lick_ and never stop.

It was embarrassing and confusing. Fuji had had some weird physical responses in dreams before, but this was real life, and someone could notice that his pants were tented at any minute.

It didn’t help that the guy whose locker was right next to Fuji’s was both big and muscular _and_ Fuji’s age. Fuji would sneak glances at his back every time he took his shirt off, because he had a beautiful back, and then Fuji would have to hide his reaction afterwards while the guy chatted him up cheerfully.

His name was Kawamura Takashi, and Fuji thought he was the most handsome man alive.

Once, one of the second-years caught Fuji looking, but he’d just chuckled. “Don’t worry, squirt. Some day, you’re bound to hit a growth spurt, too.”

Fuji was just happy that the second-year had mistaken his desire for envy.

Those were troubling days. At first, Fuji hadn’t been sure exactly what it was he wanted to _do_ with other guys. He just knew that he _wanted_. He was clear on the licking, but anything much beyond that was hazy. It took him a long time to figure out that the way the other guys in his class talked about girls they liked was the same feeling as what Fuji was feeling.

The night after that revelation, he’d lain back in his bed and imagined doing the sorts of things guys did with girls, except with other guys. He imagined kissing Kawamura, pushing him back onto his bed, and crawling between his spread legs. It was an amazing fantasy, and soon Fuji was hard and panting in his bed.

Then, he’d turned it around, imagined Kawamura’s body pinning _him_ down, between his thighs, _inside_ …

Fuji came sloppily inside his pajamas.

“You’ve been in the bathroom _forever_!” Yuta complained ten minutes later, banging on the door, while Fuji tried desperately to clean up. “I need to brush my teeth!”

“Would you stop being such a brat?” Fuji snapped at him. He usually had more patience with Yuta, but right now he was embarrassed and a little bit frightened at how he had just lost control of his body like that.

“I hate you!” Yuta shouted back at him.

***

Fuji decided to deal with his strange feelings in the locker room the same way he dealt with everything else: by smiling and ignoring them.

He would wake up every morning and tend to his cacti. As cacti mostly took care of themselves, this required minimal effort, so Fuji would go to breakfast. There, Yuta would be sulking. Fuji wondered sometimes whether Yuta had taken to sulking for the same reasons Fuji had taken to smiling. The only time Fuji had asked, though, Yuta’s response had been, “Ew! You’re _creepy_ , Shusuke! Go away!” Fuji had given Yuta his space after that.

Fuji and Yuta would go to their separate schools after that: Yuta to grade school, and Fuji to junior high. Fuji would be mostly bored in class and would spend most of the time making weird doodles in his notebook and then poking Tezuka until Tezuka would finally look. Tezuka never so much at batted an eyelash, no matter what Fuji drew or wrote, and would return to taking copious notes on whatever the teacher was saying. Fuji could then entertain himself for another ten or so minutes trying to come up with something that he was _sure_ would provoke a reaction out of Tezuka _this_ time.

Tennis practice after school was much better. He would pretend not to look at Kawamura or any of the other boys while they changed, then they would do drills. The first-years had started doing practice doubles matches against each other and, since Fuji was the best (except for Tezuka, who was now a regular), Fuji pretty much got to run the first-year practice. This meant that he could pair himself up with Kawamura all the time. The only other people Fuji would really want to pair up with would be Oishi and Kikumaru, but the two of them had decided they were an official doubles pair, so Fuji let them practice together.

A lot of the older students made fun of Kawamura because he was such a power hitter with no control. Fuji liked to manipulate the practice schedules so that he and Kawamura would end up playing doubles against those students. Fuji hadn’t made a big fuss about his skills when he’d first joined the Seigaku club, unlike Tezuka, so at first no one had really known just how good he was. After Fuji and Kawamura (well, mostly just Fuji) had beaten their first half-dozen or so upper-classmen opponents in doubles, though, it started getting around the Seigaku club pretty quickly.

“Where’d that other first-year come from?” Coach Ryuzaki had blinked the first time she’d witnessed such a match.

Fuji had just beamed at her.

“You’ve been causing quite a stir lately,” Oishi commented one day.

“Yeah,” Kikumaru cut in. “I didn’t know you were so good!”

Fuji laughed sheepishly and batted one hand in the air like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Would you mind if I took some data on your abilities?” that Inui guy, who was always stalking the upper-classmen from the bushes, asked the next day. “The data I took previously seems to be inaccurate.” He frowned down at his notebook.

“Sure!” Fuji lied.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Tezuka told him before class the next day.

Fuji wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he agreed anyway.

“Thanks,” Kawamura blushed in the locker room after practice. He wasn’t wearing his shirt. This made it very difficult for Fuji to concentrate.

“For what?”

Kawamura blushed more and shrugged. “You know… Standing up for me.”

Fuji smiled and felt something inside his chest flutter. “They shouldn’t treat you like that. I happen to like that you’re so strong, Taka.”

Kawamura blushed some more. Fuji was probably blushing, too, but he only thought of that afterwards, once he’d gotten home.

***

Somewhere between Fuji’s general obliviousness after he’d won his first tournament and the time he turned thirteen (three and one-quarter), he’d realized that the reason Yuta was so cranky around him was that Yuta was jealous of his tennis ability. Fuji found this particularly unfair because, if he could, he would gladly give all his talent to Yuta, just so that he could see Yuta smile more.

It all came to a head really quickly once Yuta started attending Seigaku, too, though.

“You should join the tennis team,” Fuji insisted. “We really need players like you. You’ll get lots of good training, too.”

“Oh, of course,” Yuta said sarcastically. “I need more _training_ because _I’m_ not a _prodigy_!” Over time, ‘prodigy’ had become the biggest insult in Yuta’s vocabulary, right next to ‘creepy.’

“I’m just trying to help,” Fuji apologized.

“Well, maybe I don’t _want_ your help!” Yuta snapped.

Fuji didn’t know what to do about that.

He didn’t know what to do about Kawamura, either. His family still went out for sushi every time Fuji’s team won, and now that Fuji was a Seigaku regular, he was winning a lot.

“Once you become a regular,” Fuji decided around a delicious roll of wasabi sushi, “we should bring the whole team here to celebrate.”

“ _If_ I ever become a regular.” Kawamura had been down on himself a lot lately. After all, a number of his classmates had been regulars this season, off and on.

“You will,” Fuji promised him. “We’ll practice together twice as hard in the off-season.”

“Really?” Kawamura’s eyes brightened. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Not at all,” Fuji smiled. “Nothing would make me happier than to play with you.”

Kawamura smiled back.

The next week, Yuta declared he was going away to boarding school at St. Rudolph. “I’m going somewhere where I won’t be ‘Fuji Shusuke’s younger brother’ ever again!” he stormed out on Fuji.

Fuji had no idea why the exact same thing that made Kawamura happy was what made Yuta so mad.

***

Fuji was still distraught about Yuta leaving when he e-mailed Saeki that weekend. That was how he didn’t notice that, among the pictures attached, was one of Kawamura stripping off his shirt after he and Fuji had played a game in the street courts.

Fuji realized his mistake approximately two seconds after the e-mail was sent. He hadn’t bothered to sort his latest pictures yet, so he was pretty sure he’d forgotten to move the Kawamura picture to its own separate album.

Sure enough, when Fuji checked his sent mail folder, there was Kawamura’s broad back in all its hot, sweaty glory.

Fuji immediately sent Saeki a second e-mail, with the album minus the Kawamura picture, with the title ‘DON’T READ PREVIOUS E-MAIL!!!’

Fuji spent the next few hours worrying more than he should. He’d never resented his cacti more for being so independent. It would have been nice and distracting to tend to his plants – watering and trimming – but cacti suffered from root rot and there was nothing much to cut. Fuji’s only other hobbies were photography (which was the cause of his worrying), tennis (which was the _other_ cause), and bothering Yuta (which was why he had been so distracted in the first place).

Finally, at 8:41 in the evening, most likely after Saeki had finished his homework, Fuji got a reply. It was to the e-mail titled ‘DON’T READ PREVIOUS E-MAIL!!!’ Fuji breathed a sigh of relief that Saeki seemed to have followed his instructions.

 _“sorry about Yuta T_T,”_ Saeki’s e-mail read.

 _“i hope hell come home soon._

 _“liked the mountain pics! ur getting really good! ^_^_

 _“saeki”_

Fuji smiled and then read, at the very bottom:

 _“p.s. that guy is pretty hot. do u like him?! ~_^”_

Fuji nearly hacked up a lung, so much so that Yumiko dashed into his room to ask if he was all right, and Fuji had a hell of a time convincing her to just _leave_.

Once Fuji was alone once more, he was mortified, scared, frantic, and about a hundred other things that Fuji Shusuke never was. It took him about an hour for the ‘oh my god, he knows!’ panicking to resolve into ‘he knows…but he doesn’t seem to mind.’

Cautiously, Fuji pressed the reply button, typed in _“yes,”_ and hit send.

Saeki’s reply came almost instantaneously this time: _“cool!”_

Fuji had never breathed a bigger sigh of relief.

***

The spring after Fuji turned fourteen (three and a half), Fuji had his first kiss stolen one sunny Tuesday afternoon.

Fuji had always been popular with the girls since he started Seigaku because he was “cute” and “sweet” and “so mysterious.” They’d been getting pushier over the last year, though, and Fuji had had to back away from a couple of them. For the most part, though, he was still considered the perfect gentleman until that first kiss.

Fuji hadn’t seen it coming for once. The girls in his class had been giggling maybe a bit more than normal, and they were looking over in his direction, but that was nothing new. Then, Yagi Naoko skipped over to where he and Kikumaru were eating quietly, under the shade of a tree, sat herself down right in front of Fuji, and planted a peck on his lips.

The giggles from the gaggle of girls increased exponentially. Instinctively, Fuji reacted by shoving her away, _hard_.

She toppled backward onto the grass, looking a little bit shocked. Fuji was a little bit shocked, too. He hadn’t meant to be that rough, but the feel of her lips against his had just been so _wrong_. Something deep inside him had recoiled at the kiss.

Yagi blinked at him for a moment and then began to cry.

“Ah!” Fuji raised an apologetic hand. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

She’d already run off back to the crowd, however, which was now scowling unanimously in Fuji’s direction. If looks could kill, Fuji would be a dead man.

He’d learned later on that it had been some stupid dare, but that Yagi had actually liked him. He felt horrible about the whole affair, but he didn’t know what he could do. He certainly didn’t want to ever have to kiss Yagi again.

Fuji actually felt dreadfully disappointed that that had been his first kiss. It wasn’t like he’d imagined at all. In his dreams, he’d always tilted his head back as rough lips descended on his own. Powerful arms would circle his waist, pressing him against a firm, muscular chest, making him melt helplessly as his mouth was devoured.

In reality, his first kiss had been none of that. It hadn’t surprised Fuji one bit that he didn’t enjoy kissing girls, but he hadn’t imagined it would feel so _bad_. Fuji felt cheated.

The girls didn’t flirt with him as much after that. Apparently, he’d gone from being a “nice, safe guy” to a “secretive, stuck-up jerk.” Fuji was a little bit bothered by this, but mostly he was just grateful that the girls would be leaving him alone now.

He’d managed to almost completely put the incident from his mind until that Friday, after school, when he and Kawamura were practicing together in the courts at the back of the park.

Kawamura was panting for breath by the time they sat down on the bench for their first break, and Fuji passed him his water bottle with a smile. They sat side-by-side for a few minutes in silence, cooling down, before Kawamura hesitantly spoke.

“I heard what happened at lunch on Tuesday.”

“Ah.” Fuji’s smile faltered for a moment before he fixed it firmly in place again.

Kawamura seemed have caught the slip. “Are you all right?” A large hand came to rest on Fuji’s shoulder; Fuji shivered in response. “Eiji said you were really upset.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It was just…awkward all around.”

Kawamura’s hand squeezed Fuji’s shoulder gently. Fuji thought, in that moment, that he wished they could stay like this forever: the dappled sunlight spilling in through the trees above them, the tennis court waiting in front of them, and Kawamura’s hand hot and _real_ on his shoulder.

Fuji sighed and realized that, as perfect as it was, this moment had to pass. “Let’s practice your serves next,” he suggested brightly.

Kawamura considered this break from their previous intimacy for a second. “Fuji?” he finally said bashfully. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Fuji turned to look at him, privately mourning when Kawamura’s hand slipped from his shoulder. “Of course.”

“Well…” Kawamura scratched the back of his neck. “The girls don’t like me very much, you know. I’m not really the popular type…”

“Their loss.”

Kawamura blushed. “I was just wondering, well… What was it like?” Kawamura fixed him with big, earnest, curious eyes.

Fuji couldn’t have said what possessed him just then. Maybe he was still bitter about being cheated out of his first kiss. Maybe it was because this week had been so stressful, and this was the most relaxing moment he’d had. Whatever the case, Fuji’s brain, which always calculated his actions and the potential reactions, shut off at that question.

Before Fuji knew what had happened, some instinctual part of him had decided that the best way to answer Kawamura’s question was to _show him_.

Their lips brushed, short and sweet, and then Fuji pulled away again. It took a couple of seconds – and Kawamura’s brilliant blush – for Fuji’s eyes to widen when he’d realized what he’d done.

“I-I…” he stammered helplessly.

“Ah,” Kawamura coughed. “I…”

They both looked to the side, horribly embarrassed.

Fuji took possession of himself first, because he had to make it seem like he was _always_ in control. “I’m sorry about that,” he tried to make his voice sound calm and airy. “I can’t imagine what came over me.” He smiled as harmlessly as he could at Kawamura.

“It’s all right.” Kawamura’s cheeks were still pink, and he darted a nervous look at Fuji’s face.

Fuji laughed lightly. “Forget it happened. It was just a whim.” Playing the ‘Weird Fuji’ card almost inevitably worked.

“No,” Kawamura said slowly, sounding very gentle just then, “I mean it’s really all right.”

Their eyes met, and Fuji had no idea what to say. “Oh,” was all he managed.

Kawamura stood up before him, and Fuji felt like something momentous was happening. “Come on,” he took the ball from Fuji’s hand. “I’ll serve.”

“I’ll receive,” Fuji agreed. Then he realized the connotations of that, and _he_ blushed.

Kawamura chuckled and ducked his head shyly. “Let’s play.”

“Yes,” Fuji agreed happily, “let’s.”

***

Fuji first took Kawamura back up to his room two weeks later. There, Kawamura and Kaku met for the first time.

“Wow,” was Kawamura’s reaction to the rather massive cactus.

“His name is Kaku,” Fuji said proudly.

“He’s a boy cactus?” Kawamura teased.

Fuji smiled. “Of course.”

Kawamura laughed. “What would happen if I touched him?”

“The long spines are mostly harmless. What you have to watch out for are the glochids,” Fuji explained. “They’re nearly invisible little needles that get under your skin and don’t let go.”

Kawamura leaned in and squinted, trying to see them. “Ah, there they are.” And, much to Fuji’s amazement, he reached in and brushed the back of his thumbnail over the flesh of the cactus. He pulled his thumb back and examined the tiny glochids that had come off, harmlessly, on his nail. “Sneaky.”

Fuji sat down on the bed. “Taka…” he breathed in wonder.

Kawamura sat down beside him so that their thighs were brushing. “Fuji?”

Fuji leaned in so that he could rest his head against Kawamura’s shoulder. He still hadn’t gotten used to being so _close_ to another person like this. It felt wonderful. “Come here,” he requested softly and fell back onto his bed, pulling Kawamura on top of him.

Kawamura tumbled with him, but caught himself on his forearms so that he hovered over Fuji instead of crushing him. “Uh, Fuji…?” Kawamura began hesitantly.

“Hmm?” Fuji traced one finger up and down Kawamura’s bicep. He very much approved of Kawamura in a tank top like this.

“Are we… I mean, what we’ve, y’know, being _doing_ … I just, well, you and me… To you, I guess, well, what are…? Am I…?”

“My boyfriend?” Fuji cut off Kawamura’s embarrassed rambling with a smile.

They didn’t talk for some time after that.

***

When Fuji turned fifteen (three and three-quarters), Kawamura baked him a cake. It was a green tea cake both because of the color and because that kind wasn’t too sweet for Fuji. There was a rim of white, cream-cheese frosting around the bottom and then, at the top, several red hot candies.

Kawamura had put four thin, white candles on the cake, but one of them was stuck in further than the other three, so it looked like a quarter of it was missing.

“I tried to make it look like a cactus,” Kawamura confessed sheepishly. “The candies were supposed to be the fruits, and the candles were the needles.”

“I love it,” Fuji said for totally different reasons altogether.

“I guess I’d better stick to being a sushi chef, huh?” Kawamura teased.

Fuji took his hand. “Let’s go upstairs. We can eat this later.” It wasn’t cake he was hungry for at that moment.

They’d just gotten to the heavy petting, and Fuji was trying to think of a way to suggest that they take things further, when the door opened.

“Shusuke,” Yuta barged in, “I need to borrow your grip ta—whoa!” Yuta’s face turned red, and he barged right back out, slamming the door behind him.

Fuji and Kawamura froze, tangled, on the bed. Fuji gave Kawamura a frightened look, and instantly Kawamura was off him so that he could go running after his brother. Fuji berated himself the whole time. It should have occurred to him that, of _course_ , Yuta would come home for Fuji’s non-birthday. He shouldn’t have been careless like that. He shouldn’t have let Yuta see…

He finally found Yuta in the kitchen and, for a moment, they stared at each other, at a loss for words.

“I, uh…didn’t mean for you to find out like that,” Fuji said unnecessarily.

“I did _not_ need to see that,” Yuta glared at him, arms crossed.

“I know this is hard to accept,” Fuji agreed cautiously, “but the fact that I like boys doesn’t change who I am.” He winced mentally at the idiocy of that statement.

Yuta dropped his scowl for a minute to give Fuji a puzzled look. “Shusuke? I’ve known you were gay since before I even knew what gay _was_.”

For the first time, Fuji was completely dumbfounded by his younger brother. “What?” he finally sputtered in disbelief.

Yuta rolled his eyes. “One day I saw on TV that there were some guys who like other guys, and my first thought was, ‘Oh, like Shusuke.’”

Fuji sat down heavily in the chair across from Yuta. “You knew?”

“Shusuke,” Yuta informed him gently, “you _liked_ it when Yumiko’s friends made us wear dresses. Just how stupid do you think I am?”

“I…”

“Look, don’t worry about it,” Yuta huffed sullenly, like it was insulting to his teenage angst to have a real conversation with his older brother like this. “You’ve always liked weird things. Just because I don’t like them, too, doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”

“Yuta?” Fuji blinked.

“What?”

“I love you.” Fuji beamed, crossed over to him, and caught him in a bear hug.

“Hey, knock it off!” Yuta grumbled good-naturedly. “God, you’re creepy…” He not-so-surreptitiously stole some frosting from the edge of Fuji’s cake and licked it off his finger.

“You wait here.” Fuji couldn’t seem to stop _smiling_ , and for the first time in as long as he could remember, it wasn’t an affectation. “I’ll go get Taka, and then we can have cake.”

“Whatever,” Yuta complained, but he was smiling, too.

It turned out to be the best non-birthday Fuji ever had, even better than the one when he’d gotten his first cactus.


End file.
